... With An Onion Tied To My Belt, As Was The Fashion In Those Days ...

I was sautéing onions the other night. I can’t recall quite what for; perhaps a burger, or some barbeque chicken … at that time of night, who really knows? Well, it so happened that I had a small piece of white onion, and the onion I had just purchased was of the yellow variety. Not being much of a cook, much less a connoisseur of onions, I didn’t give it much thought when I put a slice of one in with the other. I had them all pulled apart, since you want to maximize the exposed surface area during sautéing, and keep things moving around.

Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when a ring of the yellow onion fell into, with an almost perfect fit, a ring of the white onion. It was as if they had grown together, yet without ever knowing that one another existed. I, of course, immediately separated them with my fork, for after all, this was my meal! Nothing shall get in the way of my perfectly sautéed onions!

I shuffled between the grill outdoors, saying hi to the dog, and prepping the other food, but every time I came back to the stove, the yellow onion and white onion had found each other again. “Damn them!” I thought to myself. I just wanted some god-damned sautéed onions.

After about 20 minutes of this, I became obsessed. Whatever I would do, they would find each other. Why would they not stay apart? Why would they continue to seek each other out, thinking they fit together, when they were so many worlds removed? Finally, it hit me … what if this was life, or god, or just their own damn will, saying this was how it was meant to be? What if all my analytical notions about the absurdity of finding the one right person onion on a planet of billions were wrong? Could it be that this one yellow onion ring was destined to find its place with this one white onion ring, in this cheap-ass sauce pan in my humble kitchen? Was I witnessing the awesome power of destiny right on my stove?

I paused, and I looked to the ceiling, and I cried out. I turned and threw the fork against the wall and fell to my knees … who was I to keep them apart? I wept. I wept for the past, for who was I to know, still, if the past must have been? I wept for the future, with tears of joy, for what may come. I wept for others, with tears of both sorrow and joy, for friends who have known past sadness, but whose future must certainly hold the promise of brighter tomorrows.

As I slumped down, unable to stop sobbing, shivering in the cold evening air; spent, but warmed from the release of emotion that I never knew I held, I asked myself – “has this really happened? Have I really discovered something new and beautiful? Will I see life through eyes opened in a way never before opened? Can this really change everything?”

“No,” I said to myself. “It’s just a fucking onion.”